


Wrong Feels So Right

by osdeverre



Category: Polygon RPF
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osdeverre/pseuds/osdeverre
Summary: "It’s 2:48am when Griffin blearily checks his phone. He’s unsure what originally woke him until he hears it again, a dull knock that repeats a few times. In his tired stupor he almost confuses it for a knock on his door but then it happens again and the rhythm of it can’t be mistaken. Jesus. Some fucker is having sex at this hour of the night."





	Wrong Feels So Right

**Author's Note:**

> \- be cool about rpfs pls  
> \- all mistakes are mine  
> \- let me know if i should tag this with anything else!  
> \- title from the carly rae jepsen track of the same name

While Austin is slow as molasses in the summertime, with a heat that muddles your senses and leaves you sleep heavy - New York thrums with energy. New York is kids laughing as they run through splash pads shaded by tall elms and the sweet scent of subway car air conditioning.

The city is full of people _doing_ something? All the time? It’s usually a great motivator but god, Griffin is exhausted. 

Which is why he really doesn’t mind when Friday finds him stretched out on top of the crisp hotel duvet, listening to the hum of the aircon and mindlessly scrolling through twitter. The familiar knock on his door of “shave and a haircut” pulls him back to reality.

“Oh my god, I should have just given you a key card,” Griffin calls out.

Nick’s room is next door but they’ve been hanging out most often in Griffin’s. It’s been four months since the two of them were in the city at the same time but it’s so easy to slip into a routine of spending most of their time together.

“Yeah dude, that’s what I said from the beginning,” comes the muffled response through the door.

When he pulls open the door, Nick’s looking at his phone, fiddling with his hair.

“Jesus are you standing outside my door taking fucking selfies?” Griffin laughs.

“No, oh my god, I just feel like my hair looks weird?” Nick says as he walks past him to the bathroom mirror. “What do you think? Is it fine?” he asks, “Am I wigging out over nothing?”

Griffin takes him in for a moment. Nick’s looking more styled than usual - tight black jeans and a dark emerald bomber jacket make him look tall and, well, pretty fucking good.

Griffin coughs. “Yeah dude, you’re fine.” He busies himself for a moment a the mini bar and tries not to think about the shirt he’s wearing that he bought from the fucking GAP god knows how many years ago. 

Nick exhales loudly and Griffin can hear his weight settling on the bed behind him. “Yeah, I figured I’m just freaking myself out like I normally do before a date. And maybe it feels like I’m punching above my weight tonight.”

“Come on Nicolas. Deprecation doesn’t become you,” Griffin says, mock sternly, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. Of course Nick has a date on a Friday night. Why shouldn’t he?

Nick’s horizontal on the bed when Griffin turns to look, his legs hanging over the side, one foot bobbing gently, his arms under his head. Stretched out like this his shirt rides up a bit, exposing where his jeans are slung low around his hips, a dusting of hair trailing downward before disappearing under his pants. Griffin swallows. 

“I thought everything becomes me,” Nick says wryly. “I hope it does because honestly I need to get laid,” he laughs, scrubbing one hand over his face.

Before Griffin can come up with a response Nick sits up, looking a touch panicked.

“Oh shit I forgot I have to stop by Duane Reade.”

“Wha-”

“Jimmy’s, Griffin. ‘Raw dog is a never’ as Usher famously said.” Nick smiles, hand on the doorknob.

Griffin barks a laugh and with that Nick’s out the door again, leaving a vacuum of silence in his wake.

Before he can feel too sorry for himself, alone on a Friday night, Griffin pulls the book he started on the plane from his luggage and turns on the bedside table light.

 

It’s 2:48am when Griffin blearily checks his phone. He’s unsure what originally woke him until he hears it again, a dull knock that repeats a few times. In his tired stupor he almost confuses it for a knock on his door but then it happens again and the rhythm of it can’t be mistaken. Jesus. Some fucker is having sex at this hour of the night. Griffin’s about to turn over and pull a pillow over his head when he hears a girl giggle before dissolving into a moan. The sound is muffled but only barely, the damn cheap walls in the fucking hotel doing jack shit to cover up the sound. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t had sex in a while or maybe it’s because it sounds like porn with terrible audio quality in his room, Griffin feels himself growing hard. He rolls onto his belly and wills this awful situation away when like clockwork the situation gets worse. 

He hears a low laugh. A male laugh. A laugh that he immediately recognizes to be Nick Robinson’s. Shit. The realization shoots adrenaline through his veins, he breathing growing shallow. Shit shit shit. The girl moans loudly for a moment before he hears Nick murmur lowly. Her next groan sounds muted. Like maybe he’s covered her mouth with his hand. Jesus.

The rhythmic knocking resumes, slowly. Griffin can picture it all too clearly - Nick’s body crowding her smaller frame, one hand over her mouth as he pushes into her over and over again. She whimpers with every knock against the wall and his soft moan accompanies hers. Griffin’s hips involuntarily rock against the smooth, warm sheets under him. His brain is foggy with sleep and all he knows is he desperately wants to get off. He wraps a hand around himself and gives a small tug, gritting his teeth against a groan. Nick moans again almost in sympathy and Griffin starts tugging in earnest, being so careful not to rock the bed frame against the wall, ears burning at the thought of them overhearing.

He can hear the low tone of Nick’s soft voice again but the words are unintelligible. Maybe Nick likes to tell the girl he’s with how fucking good she feels, how much he loves fucking her like this, how she’s being such a good girl for him. All that cliché shit. Griffin sucks his fingers into his mouth, wetting them before gripping his hard dick again, canting his hips with the sensation. He’s already feeling overwhelmed and flushed with heat, his lips pressed together to keep silent. 

Maybe Nick’s flushed red too, his chest and neck blooming with color. Maybe her skin is velvet soft and Nick can’t help but suck and bite to mark her up. Maybe before the fucking started, Nick tucked his fingers into her and slowly made her come like that, his mouth at her ear, whispering lowly. 

Nick’s louder now and it’s starting to be the only sound Griffin can hear. He jerks himself faster, wondering what it might feel like if he were in their room too. If she’d jerk them both off together in one hand. If Nick would take Griffin in his plush mouth and suck him off while she grinds herself on Griffin’s face. Griffin keeps trying to hold off but Nick suddenly makes a long sound like it’s been punched out of him and Griffin gasps and he starts to come hard, muscles contracting, head spinning as he pumps himself through it.

When the ringing in his ears clears he can hear her laughing again. He takes a tissue from the side table and wipes himself mostly clean, rolls over, and in the buzz of an orgasm, falls asleep before he can think too much about what he’s just done.

**Author's Note:**

> drop me a line over at poubellebaby.tumblr.com if u wanna chat about these good boys!


End file.
